It begins at Heathrow. The departure lounge is filled with people who know each other and deals are already being discussed. These are deals that probably will not be made; it's more a warm-up exercise, a flexing of muscles, a rehearsal of lines that will be oft repeated in the next 10 days. I spy a face that I know from Hollywood and another face that seems familiar, a woman. Then I realise it's a man who has lost so much weight that he now looks like a woman.

It's been 12 years since I last went to Cannes. I remember really hating the experience and wonder if I will feel differently this time as I pick up on the mood of excitement as we board the plane. It feels like a school outing. I'm seated in front of a famous American film critic, Roger Ebert. He asks me if I have a secret film I'm about to screen (he knows there is nothing listed) and I tell him the truth: 'I'm here as a beach photographer.'

A friend who runs a gallery in London has asked me to come and do a photo event in a tent on the beach. In the coming days, I will give this answer many times and observe the response. Some think I am taking the piss. What I realise is that Cannes is not really the best place to do a photo installation. Cannes is just about the business of film and the business of film is business.

Film festivals are highly suspect at the best of times. To me, a good film is a piece of magic, the result of a long and elaborate process of tricks and illusions. I'd hate to go to a festival of magic where magicians competed with each other and there was a prize for the best trick and each cheap stall was selling tricks and books on how to do tricks and the press was explaining each trick. And all the magicians were eyeing each other go through the routine of 'I'm a beach photographer' many times in the course of the evening as I bump into studio execs and Hollywood M and S types. They have no time for or interest in the idea of photography.

I see Harvey Weinstein and he tells me we have to do a film together. I ask him to come and see the show and he tells me that it's not remotely possible, he's jammed. I see Pedro Almodovar; he has a film in competition. Pedro has become very grand in the last years. I say hello, but he is immediately distracted by an M and S and turns his back. There was a time when we would chat about films but, hey, that's the film business.

There are many tall, beautiful Russian women with short, bald men on their arms. I enjoy the party and stay late.

Why did I come to Cannes? I think I wanted to see what it was like out there. I'm about to make a film and it's been three years since I ventured into the shark-infested waters. So part of me wanted to be a spy, to remind myself of what I might be getting myself into. There is very little ambiguity; I cannot delude myself. I want to make a film. What if the film is a success and they invite me back? Would I have the balls to turn them down? Or is vanity such a strong thing? Is it so important to win the best trick award?

A.Yes. B. No. C. Maybe. D. I'd do it for the sake of the film.

The Figgis CV

The Life Born in Carlisle, 1948; lived in Kenya as a child before the family settled in Newcastle. Studied music.

The Work Spent early professional years in experimental theatre, chiefly with the People Group. After feature-film debut directing Stormy Monday (1988), put together an impressive list of films made in America, including Internal Affairs (1990), Leaving Las Vegas (1995) and One Night Stand (1997). His work since has tended to the experimental: Time Code (2000) was shot in a single day and used split- screen techniques.